Looking now through the window of a wombAt hands that have touched everything in the universe --Now clenched in embryonic fists --The world's been turned to goldImpacted, imploded, blasted inward,Melted, smelted, and refined

"I dwelt among the rivers of your mind."

I have been walking in the empty hillsDown under the mountainsThrough caverns of blacknessThat echo with untrodden tunnels,Searching for the El Dorado of the blind.Now, look, where cold invisible heronsCome to spread their wingsIn a sky rippled with clouds,And ancient men in ancient clothesTake shelter in the grottoes of the wind.

"The mountains are of gold;The world is a jewel,A spider in a precious web."

Unafraid, he said, I walk through the golden abyss, the fathomless radiance,Singing a song to cup the fragile draught of life.The tiger has become my friend.The dragon makes merry with the clouds,And among the mountain peaksAncient men in ancient clothesTake shelter in the grottoes of the wind.

"The rivers and rocks are married together -- No one remembers our name."

It's one of those opaque nights.The moon goes down early and young.The atmosphere thickens and hidesStars, hills, trees --Your voice is out there in the dark distance.Listen, Cottonwood,let's run away together,tonight --I'll be a leaf that doesn't care whereWe're going. You can carry me beyond ourbridge, under the railroad, through the meadowsAnd into California. Splash by Hilt andSlip through Hornbrook about midnight.Merge with the Klamath in the darkwe'll give ourselves up to the rushof its waves and wind through canyons Of volcanic rock tottering withindividualistic pines and junipers.Below Oak Knoll we'll yoke arms with Beaver Creekand storm through Happy Camp --tonight, Cottonwood, tonight.As the cold comes on with increasing bitewe'll take the final stretch two stepsAt a time, And in the predawn lightWe'll sight the soft glow of endless wavesand oceanborne clouds.As light spreads over the Coastwe'll look back through the weaving woods-- tall trunks the warp, heavy boughs of emerald-blackthe weft, with silver dawn like a luminous archsuffusing the tapestry with light.The grey waves, Cottonwood,Will swallow us both and we'll returnto lap the shore we came from that gave us birth,To shape with sandy fingersthe discarded roots and boles of the rain forest,Drifting North and South along the rocky coast,Wandering with the rain.

Good morning Cottonwood,Freezing today. I suppose you felt it last nightstiffening the mud along your banks,Forming fingers and half-moons of icein the still spots and puddles.The meadow is covered withcheap dime-store jewelry --She's such a hick.In the east the dawn's a silver diskWhere the sun's getting ready behindits satin curtain.Through the outhouse portal I seethat it is cold everywhere,And besides your voice (which sounds hoarsehave you got a cold?), the first soundsAre gasoline engines.Down Colestine road a car buzzesbrightly; Jamie starts the Chevy-6in his dumper; Shandor gets his generator going.To join the fun I start the Toyotathat's parked halfway up the hillfull of wood where I left it yesterdayafter three unsuccessful attempts toreach the yurt. You see, I startedwhen the mud was hard, but with itshalf-dead carburetor the Toyo tookso long to start, by the time I got rollingthe mud was all defrosted and halfway therethose super-high performance hiway tires'dstart spinning free as if the rear-endwere blocked up off the ground. pissedme off. At any rate I won't bore you with details, since you were probablyeavesdropping the whole time.The sun's out of its dressing room now,and looks like what the weathermancalls "clear and cold with high clouds"Have a nice day -- Your friend, Charles

Rockets chasing comets, chasing stars,The traffic in the heavensGetting heavy. Let's get downAnd take a look at Mars,Where voices still are driftingFrom the lungs of drunken spacemenWho frequent the martian bars.

Silly, I'm slapped silly, Like a clown who wears a frownAnd brings everybody down,Like a child who can't tell youWhy it hurts,Like a man who's playing with the noose,And wonderingIs it too loose?

Out here, running with the herd,Life and death, It's a daily thing.Beauty passes in a season -- The long-legged lovely one Becomes the encumbered mare, Hindered by love of young,Unable to run wild in the sunset.

Sex has its terrifying side;The steaming pain of birth, And the duty to care for some Repulsive hairless thing that Only cries and shits and speaks nothing. No wonder babies are killed though I'm not condoning that sort of thing, It's just your mother's voice That says it's cute, how lovely, Oh, it needs a change.

Out here with the herdIt's a question of dominance,And who has the means to make it stick.Losers can cry, but "to him that hath,"more is given, and to thatPoor sucker that's got not,There's nothin' due --You can take it to the bank.

If you're weak, throw in with someone strong; if you're stupid, Follow someone with brains; if you're A coward, serve someone brave. Then at least when night falls There'll be some campfire where You are welcome, some pot where You can stick your spoon.

I have lost all my friends.I am alone and friendless in the world.I bet you're delighted to meet someone in the same boat as yourself.This world is like a bubble popping.I can't believe in it for one second.Stand back! I think I'm going to disbelieve!

(Heavy metal anthem-style) He's a man Who gestures to heaven Standing straight and tall The fire rains down, Down from heaven, Turning earth into hell. He's a man Who rolls two sevens And makes a hash of the land He's got so many dollars And a five-sided building All right there in his hand. He's a man Mean as his father made him Proud as his mother is, A whole mess of psycho behavior In a Western suit He's a man And he'll send his men to Hell He's a man Did you hear the tales they tell Did you hear the tolling bell? Were those portents in the sky? Are you not afraid to die? The only unasked question: Why? He's a man We should try to understand He's got power in his hand He must rule the savage land.